


Misery

by Vickaanpickaan



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Depression, Kidnapping, M/M, Memory Loss, Mental Instability, Psychological Horror, Stockholm Syndrome, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-07 18:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10366626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vickaanpickaan/pseuds/Vickaanpickaan
Summary: There's a fine line between being a fan and being a complete phycopath.Paul McCartney's fans have gotten out of control and they've really started to scare him. But he have security guards and they won't let anything happen to him, right? Usually that's the case but one day it happens. What he was most scared about, happened."I saved your life, Paul."





	1. Run for your life

**Author's Note:**

> A new chaptered fanfiction, and this time it's based of Stephen King's novel with the same name. I decided to call it the same because I wanted it to be clear that it was based of it and it's a song title from The Beatles as well. 
> 
> With that said, I hope you will enjoy this phycological horror fanfic!

He was absolutely drenched in sweat. If you wouldn’t know better, you could think someone threw a bucket of water over his head. His brown locks clung together in pieces over his forehead. Thankfully, the crowd were held off by the security guards surrounding the stage. Otherwise they would fight their way up, no matter what physical harm that would do to themselves. Once they were up they would throw themselves over him, rip him to pieces, and then probably smell the amount of sweat he was drenched in. His fingers were aching from playing his bass all night and so were his feet. However, there was no rest for poor Paul McCartney because he had a crowd to entertain. A crowd of restless teenage girls who were screaming their lungs off with every chord of his bass or syllabi uttered from his plump lips. The spotlight blinded his eyes but he could see the contours of thousands of heads constantly bumping up and down. The open roof had in the beginning of the concert granted them with enough light for Paul to see his audience. Now it was like the hole had been covered with a black cap. He strummed the last chord and then rushed out a ‘good bye, wonderful crowd, love you’ before he ran off stage. But there would still be no rest for Paul McCartney. 

”Go, go, go!” Paul heard his manager Brian’s slightly panicked voice over the screaming mass surrounding him. He were now backstage and had to rush out through a hidden, small door in the very back. The brave security guards who were in the stadium had granted him a few seconds in advance, but the fans quickly managed to run past them and catch up. They were determined to get to Paul no matter what it took. 

It felt like a true scene from a horror movie. The screams were loud and high-pitched. Even if they probably were screaming ‘Paul’ no words could be distinguished. One single wrong movement from Paul and they would get him. He turned his head back. You could easily mistake their faces of excitement for vicious murderers. Their movements were almost animal like. They were the hungry lions and poor Paul was the prey. They pushed their way forward in the competition of who would get to be in the front. Every once in a while someone would fall over in the process, only to get hundred pairs of heavy feet over their body. Paul flinched, worried for the poor girl that no one even seemed to care about. Every sense of humanity was lost. Now, it was kill or be killed that were the deal. Only that the goal wasn’t to kill, it was to reach Paul. All he could think was that if he would outrun them, he would live. 

He burst out of the door and ran quickly in the thin aisle that new security guards outside managed to give him. Some of the fans decided to make a shortcut and run outside immediately. The largely build men pushed away hundreds and hundreds of fans just to smuggle Paul out of the building alive. He managed to shot the sky a small glance as he ran. It was dark and he thought he spotted a few stars somewhere on the massive blanket over him. Because that was what if felt like, a blanket. The air was tense and thin, making it hard to breathe and the temperature was way higher than what a person could take. Drops of sweat were flooding down Pauls face and he quickly wiped each of them away with the back of his wrist. As he looked around his heart was starting to beat faster and his breathing were getting heavier. His body was getting more and more tired by every movement he made. It ached and all he wanted to do was sit down and rest. However, he knew he couldn’t stop. It wasn’t a particularly long run but it felt like a marathon in those circumstances. 

This was simply the reality of Paul McCartney. He was a world famous singer-songwriter that were causing a mania across the globe. People everywhere dreamt of even a chance to breathe the same air as he. It was so weird because he was just Paul… He was nothing special, not special enough to get that sort of reaction from someone. Occasionally ha had tried talking to his fans, when it had only been a few, but it was like they didn’t even considered him human. Tears flooded down their faces, their breathing was shaky and sometimes they couldn’t breathe at all. Sometimes they screamed, sometimes they fainted and sometimes they straight up scared Paul. Why did they had to act that strange? This was not what he signed up for and how he had gotten that successful, no one could answer. Not even Paul himself. It seemed like it happened over one night. One day he was sitting in his bedroom, strumming his guitar and the next here he was, fleeing a massive stadium after his latest gig. 

Of course he considered himself lucky but in this very moment, he was scared for his life. Sure, he had security guards but what help did they do when no one really knew just how crazy his fans could be? They had really gotten out of hand lately and that scared Paul. 

“I bought you a new pair of shoes, your size is 42 right? But then I saw you already had them because you wore them three days ago. So I though you could give them to your brother for his birthday next week, perhaps? Say hi from me please, I love you so much Paul, hope you get better from your cold soon!” Had a fan said recently. Wondering how the person had known all of these things he just took the shoes, smiled and started walking off. When he was out of sight he looked at them, shivered uncomfortably and decided to throw them away. Only to receive a fan mail the day after with the shoes and the note ‘I think you dropped these near the park, I took the liberty of sending them to your current hotel, love you Paulie!’

The safe space between him and the security guards attempt to keep the mass away shrunk smaller and smaller. Even if you aren’t claustrophobic normally, you get claustrophobic in that situation. He stared freaking out. They were getting closer. ‘Please don’t let anything happen, please don’t let anything happen, please don’t let anything happen…’ he started thinking to himself, praying to any religious power that he could think of. They kept getting closer and closer to him and all he could do about it was keep running. Soon he could feel their desperate hands all over him. 

“Just hurry, Paul. You’re soon there, you have done this millions of times before.” He thought to himself as he focused his eyes on his awaiting, safe car. ‘Nothing can happen to you, you’ll be fine…’ But then something happened, and what happened no one could really explain. It all happened over a couple of seconds.

When he was only a couple of metres away and his hope went up, he felt it. A strong pair of hands on his ankles. They forced him to not only stop but down on the ground. The person then, in the speed of light, threw its body over Pauls to hide him from everyone’s eyes. That way it would only look like someone fell over from their point of view. Paul’s head hit the ground forcefully and for a moment he must have blacked out. Everything seemed to get more quiet and peaceful. The chaos around him moved on in slow motion. People missed that Paul was down on the ground because they didn’t catch what happened. Therefore they just kept running. They probably assumed he got in his car already and so did his crew, because the car quickly drove off. The person pulling him down waited until everything was complete mayhem until it took to action, that way no one would even notice. Paul, who hit his head, was too dizzy to make attempts to move or make any sound. Soon everyone was out of sight, running after the car they believed Paul was in. Without any second wasted Paul was easily lifted up and hauled over someone’s shoulder and soon they were off again. The person had a car parked nearby that he figuratively threw Paul inside and drove off. 

Paul laid across the backseat of the car, head spinning from the fall he had taken. His body hurt and he felt like he was going to throw up. He rolled over on his side and puked onto the back of the driver’s seat, coughing up bile and falling to rest on the backseat again. Dark spots began to cloud his vision, something told him that he was in danger but his body didn’t want to move. The driver told him something but the sound was too far away. Paul felt his eyes roll back into his head and he blacked out. 

When he woke up again he didn’t know how much time that had passed. All he could tell was that he was still in a small car. The silent buzzing of the engine and a faint sound of raindrops hitting the window was heard. The movements of the car were soft but he could still feel himself turning the tiniest as he was laid to match the car’s motion. For a short but happy moment he thought everything was okay. However, it didn’t last long because he quickly realised that he didn’t recognise the driver. Too scared to move he just laid there, heart beating fast. His entire body ached but worst was his head. It was like someone was constantly hitting it with a sledgehammer. What had actually happened? Who was this person? He couldn’t remember anything, no matter how hard he tried. He tried squinting his eyes, hitting his head with his hand lightly and pinching himself but nothing helped. There he was, in the backseat of a stranger’s car, with no memory of how he got there. He eyed the stranger. It appeared to be a man. He had auburn hair and a pretty pointy nose. He hummed quietly to himself as he drove the car. Paul had a strange and bad feeling about this. As anyone who would wake up with memory loss would be. He was scared and he knew he shouldn’t but he couldn’t help liking the soft humming. It was… calming him? This was bad… Oh boy this was really bad…


	2. John Lennon- the biggest fan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story only seems to get worse for poor Paul McCartney.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: This chapter does contain some parts with violence

“You’re awake I see.” The humming stopped and was replaced by a somewhat high-pitched man’s voice. It sounded almost forced at first. Like he was trying his very best to be friendly, almost too hard for it to be believable. He didn’t let his eyes of the road and Paul was happy about that because he started freaking out. He tried to move but his body wouldn’t budge. Not like that would make any different, he was still inside a moving car. Too scared to answer he just swallowed. This earned a laugh from the other man. A weird, almost unhappy and evil laughter. The friendly tone changed and out of the strangers mouth came an aggressive and angry sound. “I thought Paul McCartney would at least answer the person who just saved his life. Come on, talk!”

“U…u-uh… t-thanks….” Paul managed to stutter out, now even more terrified.

“That’s better. It’s funny… I’ve always imagine you’d be the talk-active type, Paul.” The man calmed down immediately and continued mumbling the rest. Almost like he were talking to himself rather than Paul and as it wasn’t really planned for it to be said out loud. “But you always talked so eagerly to everyone else… Interviewers, media over all, security guards, fans on the street… even at your hotel…” 

Paul’s eyes grew wide open and his breathing stopped. First of all, he was famous? Second of all, he had been… stalked? For, what it appeared to be, a long time. How else could he have known how he apparently acted like in privat? Who was this person?

“E-excuse m-me… but… who are you?” 

“Oh, how rude of me.” The man laughed his cold and scary laugh again. It sent shivers down Paul’s spine even though he tried not to let it show. The man turned his face so that Paul could see it in the mirror. He had brown, small eyes that were shot wide open so you could see the white clearly, and hair very much alike his own. He formed his mouth as a very distinct smile. It wasn’t like anything Paul could explain. It was a happy smile, like it belonged to a child who finally got that puppy for Christmas that he wanted for ages. In the same time it was a crazy and scary one, like it belonged on a serial killer who enjoyed slither your throat open as he heard your tortured screams. It seemed almost faked but Paul knew it wasn’t. In fact it was probably genuine in all the ways imaginable. It belonged to a mad man, that’s one thing for sure. His creepy, demanding voice from earlier changed tone into a soft and friendly one again as he said “The name’s John, John Lennon and I’ve always admired you Paul. Some might call me your biggest fan.” 

There was something about this John guy. Every time he spoke it was like someone dragged nails across a blackboard. Not that his voice were annoying but it was the tone. It was the way his expression suddenly changed. One second he was soft and happy and then unexpectedly he could turn almost angry. Then he would curse under his breath and try calming himself down. ‘You’re scaring Paul’ he said to himself. ‘You can’t scare Paul. Stupid, stupid John’. 

Paul didn’t answer more than he had to. He was mostly quiet and didn’t move a muscle. He was still laid down in the backseat of a car. The seats were dark blue. The fabric also had a pattern of some kind, which he dragged his fingers on, following the faint lines. As he was laid there he was wondering how long this car trip could possibly be. How far away would John take him? And could he ever possibly escape from there?

The landscape outside changed and changed. Whenever Paul had any clue to where they might be, it morphed into something else in the meantime as he blinked. Now they had been driving through a deep forest for hours and all Paul could see where tall trees, pines and firs, running the opposite way that the car was heading. Sometimes it almost look like they danced by. Or at least that what it looked like in Paul’s vision. He might still be dizzy from whatever happened, whatever he was saved from. But oh how he wished that he could be outside with the trees, dancing and enjoying his freedom. 

John hadn’t physically done anything to Paul but he was still scared out of his mind that that fact might change if he gave him even the slightest reason for it. With John you had to constantly be on your guard considering how fast he changed state of mind. Paul just had to use the fact that he was Paul McCartney to try to avoid as much injury as possible. Whoever he was, John was his biggest admirer. That could be used to his advantage. 

Paul yawned heavily and started rubbing his eyes. He were getting tired again. No matter how hard he wanted to stay awake to make sure he knew as much about his circumstances as possible, he couldn’t. His eyelids were getting heavier and he felt them closing each other against his will. It was warm in the car. Warm and cosy. The soft buzzing of the engine was still to be heard, and so was now John’s voice in the distance. It was comfortable to just lay there. What harm could it do to give in to his body? He would still wake up later. Maybe this was all a dream, a really weird dream. He only had to close his eyes and it all would be over. He would wake up with his memory back again. Slowly he slipped into unconsciousness. Slowly all his worries were left behind. Soon all he could think about was how calming and nice it was to let go of the situation. Soon everything went dull and in his dreams he was out in a field, dancing by the trees....

Next time he woke up was because the soft buzzing of the engine suddenly stopped, and with the sound the movement stopped as well. John opened the door next to him and quickly got out, after searching around the grounds after any sign of other living beings. Quickly afterwards Paul felt the door next to him opening up as well. A cold breeze of air hit his face forcefully. Shivers where send down his spine and he felt goose bumps forming on his skin. He lifted his head with great effort and looked out. For a short period of time all he could see was white. Was he dead? No because soon a landscape started to form. Contours of snowed-capped trees, bushes and a large field made its entrance in Paul’s vision. He couldn’t see any sign of anyone ever stepping their foot there before. It was completely deserted by any footsteps of men. All there was besides nature, as far as the eyes could see, was a small dilapidated house. 

Before he could think much about it, he was picked up bridal style by John. He was carried out of the car towards the small wooden house. He felt too weak to make any resistance so he let himself be carried. His face was leaned against John’s chest. His jacked was open and Paul could smell a faint perfume hidden in his shirt. Without any word said the door was opened, they walked inside and then it was locked behind them.

The house was as dilapidated inside. It had a strong scent of mould and all the furniture was old and torn. It didn’t look like someone had lived there for centuries. There was a few paintings on the wall and most of them had a cut straight through them. Paul also noticed like some of the furniture had the same cut in them as well. It was an old house because some of the room’s floor were in different heights. It was probably located on a hill as well. The ceiling was low enough in some of the rooms John had to bend his head in order to walk. It was strange because the house seemed bigger on the inside than what it looked like from the outside. Almost like it was enchanted. 

Suddenly John stopped by a wall. He fumbled around a little bit with one of his hands on the wall while cursing under his breath. After a while he found what he was searching for, a small creak that he stuck his hand through and opened a secret door. It had a stairway heading straight down into darkness and without hesitating John started walking down. Paul wondered how on earth he knew where he was walking because he couldn’t see anything. He had probably walked there millions of times before. 

When they were down John simply reached out straight forward and found a handle. Another door opened and inside was a small room, which luckily had an old lamp in the ceiling. It didn’t grant them with a lot of light but enough for Paul to see what was inside. A small bed by one of the walls, with a night stand to its right. There was also an old, torn rug on the floor and a bookshelf by another wall. The bookshelf contained a few books, a radio and what appeared to be a photography…. Of Paul. The room also had another door in it, which was slightly open and Paul could see that it was a tiny bathroom. Otherwise the room looked empty. No, in the corner was something else. Paul squinted his eyes to see what it was. The shape was a bit odd. Then he understood what it was, a guitar. 

John waked with Paul still in his arms straight towards the old bed and gently placed him on it. He made sure to puff the pillow just so it would lay comfortably under Pauls head. Then he left the room and walked into the small bathroom. Paul could hear the water being turned on, and then turned off again. John then returned with a small glass of water in his hand. 

“Drink.” He commanded. Paul hesitated but after he felt that his throat was indeed sand paper dry he gave in. He let the cold water end his thirst and he immediately felt a little bit better again. 

“You must be so confused.” Stated John while he started to slowly pace around the room. “You see, I saved your life Paul.” 

“What happened?” Paul dared to ask. 

“It was awful, Paul. Awful. They were behaving like animals, competing on who got the pleasure to attack you. If I hadn’t been there they would have torn you to pieces. To pieces Paul.” John shook his head forcefully, to make sure Paul understood how bad it was. He had his soft voice on. Then he stopped moving and started thinking. After that his tone changed again. “I needed to save you. That idiot Brian made you continue doing this. He made you keep risking your life even though he knew how bad you were feeling because of it. Even though he knew how scared you were. He was enjoying it, Paul. He was enjoying making you feel like shit. He pushed you to do it. I saved you, Paul. Both from them and… him…”

Brian… Yeah that did ring a faint bell for Paul. He did recognize that name. Was John telling the truth? He looked at him. Still pacing around. Yeah he was passionate that’s for sure. The way he explained it. He used his entire body language to state that something was good, awful or scary. He shook his head, stomped his feet, clutched his hands, even hit the wall at the mentioned of Brian… No sign of hesitating or figuring out a lie… He told him what was on his mind and showed him how that made him feel. Either he was telling the truth or he was an extremely good actor. From what he had seen from John, his actions and body language here belonged to the same John he had seen in the car. The acting was the same, and holding up a character for… how many hours had even passed? He didn’t know but it was many hours, even for an amazing actor. Besides, Paul didn’t know any other explanation to what happened. So he did it. Something that he knew he probably shouldn’t. He chose to believe John. Okay so he did save his life, but he was still creeping Paul out. The only thing that changed was that he now held a little gratitude towards John. 

“Thanks, John.” John’s face shot immediately in Paul’s direction. His eyes scanned him. Something told Paul he wasn’t used to hearing his name. He must have lived alone for a long, long time. John slowly walked towards Paul who couldn’t help but feel scared. “I’m sorry! I d-d-didn’t mean t-to…”

“Since the moment I first saw you Paul, I knew you were a nice person…Not like the others…” He said while still walking towards Pauls trembling figure. When John saw he was trembling he suddenly stopped. “Stupid, stupid John! Can’t you see you’re scaring Paul?! You can’t scare Paul! It’s forbidden!” 

He then turned around and walked with quick steps to the nearest wall instead. Without any seconds wasted he then proceeded to aggressively slam his head to the wall. He screamed out in pain and when he stopped his body was unstable. He wobbled around in the room, with rage in his eyes, his hands clutched and heavy breathing. His shoulders were raising and falling distinctively with every breath he took. A small strand of crimson red blood were showing up on his forehead but he didn’t seem to notice or care. He looked terrifying to say the least. Even though his forced friendly self were scary, Paul would see that rather than this without any doubt. 

John walked towards Paul again. Scared for his life Paul closed his eyes and held his breath. ‘I’m going to die now. I’m actually going to die now’ he thought to himself and let a single tear escape from his left eye. But in the last second John stopped in front of the bed. With eyes almost black he picked up the nightstand next to the bed. John held unto it hardly and walked to the middle of the room. He spun around a little bit slowly and it seemed like he now held his breath. It was like one part of him were trying to stop the other from doing what he was about to do as he spun, looking at his feet. 

It didn’t work because suddenly, with a loud scream, he threw the nightstand forcefully into a wall. Only that the wall it hit, was the wall where Paul’s bed where standing. It probably weren’t meant for it to be that exact wall, but it was. It broke into pieces which almost seemed to bounce back into the room. Some of the pieces only hit Paul who was laying directly under where it hit the wall and most of them would only leave a bruise. One piece, however, which when it broke from what Paul thought could from be the leg of the nightsand, turned into the shape of a spear. It pierced Paul’s leg. The remaining parts of the nightstand, who were still together, fell onto Pauls other leg, crushing it in the process. Paul let out a scream. He wanted to remain quiet but the pain was too unbearable. The scream however flicked a switch in John. 

He calmed down from his tantrum immediately and turned into a nurse. The parts of the nightstand were carefully lifted off Paul, the spear was yanked out of Paul’s leg and both of the injured legs were bandaged.

“I’m so sorry, Paul. So sorry.” He repeated as he was taking care of the injuries he caused. 

Paul’s situation had gotten worse. He was now both far away, with no clue where he was, with a crazy man who claimed to be his biggest fan and now he couldn’t even walk anymore. How the hell could he ever get out of there?


End file.
